The First Shapeshifter
by Shocktober
Summary: The story of wolf-boy!
1. Chapter 1

1

It was a Wednesday. Me and my mate Mike Setter were in the playground, near the flats where Mike lives. Slowly revolving on the creaky roundabout.

We would've been at school, but Mike was avoiding someone, and what sort of a best friend would I be, abandoning him to boredom all day? No, no; friends like us, we faced down the boredom together.

Mike yawned loudly. I had to fight to stifle one myself.

'Well', he said slowly,' this has to be better than _Maths _and then _Science _and then _Games _and all that crap'.

'We're certainly learning more', I said.

I was lain out across the roundabout. It was the sort that was just a large wheel on an axel- no handholds to get in the way. The sky slowly turned above me to the rhythm of Mike, as with every few seconds he pushed his leg against the ground, and the roundabout creaked and the sky revolved again.

'We're not learning squat!'

I snorted,' exactly'.

We elapsed into silence. Mike didn't know how hard it had been for me to bunk off. He could do it so easily- he had so much freedom. His mum left for work super-early (she was a nurse), leaving him to go to school- or not go to school, as he pleased. But with me, I had 24 hour surveillance. At the kid's home, we all went to school together, arriving in a special bus like a bunch of retards. Whoever the social worker driving us was, they always watched us into the gate, then drove away to drop off the little kids when they knew we were in the hands of the school authorities. I'd had to climb onto the bike sheds and jump the fence at first break. I'd found Mike at the playground where we always met, not best pleased. He'd been waiting there almost three hours. But I explained and he understood. He always understood, did Mike.

I became aware of the sky gradually slowing down. Finally it came to a creaking halt. I glanced at Mike. He looked frozen, staring across the playground at something I couldn't see.

'What's up?'

'It's him', whispered Mike,' Bannerman. Guy I'm avoiding. And his gang'.

I scrambled into sitting position. Now I thought of it, school was probably out by now. Not that Garth Bannerman usually went. Today he probably only went in to get at Mike. He'd had to sit through lessons- and he didn't even get to beat anyone up. He wasn't going to be best pleased.

'Oi! Setter!' he yelled,' been looking all over the place for you Setter. Where you been?'

We were in trouble- that much I knew. As the gang advanced towards us across the grey concrete no-man's-land of the play-park, I could almost _smell _their aggression. It seeped off them in waves, snaking around the swing-set and the sticky climbing frame, winding towards where we sat on the stationary roundabout.

Mike stood up.

'Yeah- what you want?'

I had to admire his bravery. There were four boys in the gang and they were all around fifteen or sixteen. If we ever let them get close enough they'd probably tower over us, certainly over Mike, who had always been small and runty, and looked about nine, even though he was twelve, going on thirteen.

I stood up too, if only to show Mike a little support. My stomach knotted as Garth Bannerman, the biggest and ugliest of them all, stepped forward.

'You pick a fight with my little brother you pick a fight with us'.

_Oh. _I realized now. The day before Mike had gotten into a fight with Bret Bannerman, right in the middle of the canteen. Apparently. All us from the home ate packed lunches, out on the field.

Mike snorted,' oh very noble. I don't suppose Bret happened to mention that _he _picked the fight and if he can't even win a fight with someone a head shorter than him, maybe he shouldn't point out the fact that I'm a head shorter than him'.

I couldn't help feeling that this sentence got away from Mike, but the impact was the same. Garth snarled and the gang stepped forward to join him.

'Very brave', sneered Mike,' can't take on a twelve-year-old without a bunch of mates with you. Though if they fight anything like your brother I don't really need to worry'.

I wasn't imagining it- I _could _smellthe anger and resentment and aggression. It stank like acid, over-powering the smell of old cigarettes and booze. I was almost choking on it.

'You asked for it Setter'.

In one clumsy movement Garth dove forward and grabbed Mike off the roundabout. Mike yelled and kicked at his shins as the older boy threw him to the ground.

'Hey!' I felt vicious anger lurch inside me as I leapt off the roundabout and went to Mike's side.

'Woah!' one of the kids was staring at me in horror,' what just happened to your _eyes _man?'

'Shuttup', snapped Garth. He aimed a kick at Mike's ribs, but missed and grazed his ear. Mike howled and struggled into a sitting position, fists flying randomly. As for me, I shoved Garth full in the chest.

'Hey- back off!' I yelled, right in his face.

Damn. I was in for it now. Believe it or not- he didn't back off.

He swore. Spat. Shoved a palm so hard into my ribs I was thrown right over Mike, tripping over him as I went and crashing down onto the unforgiving concrete. My head hit the ground with a nasty crack. The shock of it kept the pain at bay for a few seconds; then it came crashing down over me like a hot, splintering tidal wave, making me yelp.

Through vision that swam, I saw the gang laying into Mike, kicking him with doc-marten clad feet. He had screwed himself up into a ball, protecting his face with his arms. It was this, I think, that pushed me over the edge. I heard a snarl- didn't know where from- just as I shouted in rage. I leapt up, ready to start laying into _them. _But all instincts to punch and kick and shove were gone. Replacing them- were the instincts to _scratch _and _bite_. Curling my tail once around my paws and lashing it like a whip, I _leapt_ at Garth, _snarling _like - well I had to face up to it- a wolf. A wolf. Even as I sank my teeth deep into the kid's arm, I was marvelling at the _power _that seemed to flow through me. I positively _sang _with it, _rejoiced _in it. As Garth screamed and stumbled back, away from me and Mike, the other kids already running, I felt a shudder of revulsion from the tip of my tail to the ends of my paws. His blood tasted foul- of what he'd been drinking and what he'd injected into it a few nights ago. I shuddered and _spat_, even as Garth stumbled, crying, out of the playground and into the concrete block of flats beyond.

I looked at Mike. Mike, who was on his knees now, staring into my furry face.

I cocked my head at him and tried to say something. Something like,' hell mate- how weird is this? I'm a wolf!' It came out as a series of growls and a few unthreatening snarls. Trouble is I don't think a human can tell the difference between an unthreatening snarl and an about-to-rip-your-throat-out snarl.

Mike whimpered.

'Please don't eat me', he snivelled, and a trickle of blood from the beating he'd just received ran out of his hair and down his forehead, nestling in his eyebrow.

I shook my head pointedly and wished I could say something comforting. Instead I put my heavy paw on his shoulder and licked the blood off, then stood back. I realized too late that this might be quite a threatening action from the point of view of Mike. But Mike didn't look freaked out. He looked like he was trying to work out a complicated maths problem.

He looked round and then back at me. And round again. And back at me.

'Mate… s'that you?'

I nodded vigorously.

'I wouldn't've believed it if someone else said but… I just _saw _it man, you tripped over me and hit the ground and when you come back up…'

Mike stared a little more.

'How- how'd you… do it?'

I shrugged. It felt weird, performing these human actions in a wolf body.

'Can you… go back?'

I frowned and tried. Trouble was I didn't know how I'd changed in the first place. After about ten seconds of intense human-y thoughts, I gave up. And shook my head.

'You mean you're stuck like this forever?'

I shook my head again. To be honest, I didn't know, but I wasn't worried about it. I had no desire to go back to being human just now. Everything felt wonderful like this- _joyous_; like I'd gotten out of a Fiat Multipla and into a Ferrari. My _hearing- _it was phenomenal. I seemed to pick up everything- scuffles and scurries in the shrubberies at the far end of the play-park; TV Sets in the flats above us; voices muted by distance or walls. And… _scents_. _Wow- _how much had _those _been amplified by? I could smell… Mike- most strongly. Mike's blood as it gathered again inside his cut. And… something good to eat wafting from the huge bins at the corner of the building. Something meaty. Bannerman's blood as well. It stank. And underlying it all was the scent of concrete and humans, sweat and cigarettes.

Admittedly my eyesight left much to be desired but I'd get used to that. For now, though, I wanted to explore. More than anything I wanted to get away from the overpowering human-stink of the concrete flats. Find some woodland… parkland even. Trouble was we lived right in the middle of the city. Woodland was hard to come by.

'Seriously man- you bit Bannerman. If he figures out it was you…'

I tried to convey my doubt of _this _ever happening, by flinging my arms- no, front legs- in the air. It didn't work that well and Mike retreated a few steps. I dipped my head in apology.

'Sorry', mumbled Mike,' …I just… I…'

Suddenley, his head snapped up, his eyes wide.

'You need to get out of here!'

I was shocked to smell the burst of panic that pulsed from him.

'Seriously- Bannerman's going to be calling someone! They put animals like you down for attacking humans! You need to run!'

I could see the truth in his words but I couldn't just leave him, not like this. I nudged his shoulder. I was trying to ask him whether he'd be alright and he seemed to understand.

'I'll be fine', he said,' but you won't be if you hang around much longer, mate. Just go. Run'.

I could see the truth in his words and I followed them. I ran.

Away from the flats, across a road onto the park and across the park, through a few trees over another road over a fence into a garden. Across the garden and into the next. They flashed beneath my swift paws like lights in a mirror- a few screams and faces displaying fear and shock and I was gone.

It was _so exhilarating. _

I felt like I was flying, and running so _fast. _It was such a rush- such a high. It felt so natural as well, as if I'd been born wolf, and been waiting inside that human form all this time, as if I'd only just broken free.

I _had _broken free.

With a whoop of excitement it hit me- there was nothing tying me to that grotty kid's home now. Even if I changed back, changed back into a boy, they would never track me down. If they got close I could change again and just run.

Provided I _could _change again.

As I crossed an A road, sending cars screaming and drivers twisting, some of the excitement left me. Being stuck as a wolf forever was bad. But whichever way I looked at it, being stuck as a human after I'd tasted _this _… that would be worse. Hell, even.

No. No- I would find a way. Take on another gang or something. Anything to raise that vicious spring of rage that had risen in me as I hit the tarmac.

I was now running through sparse woodland. The scent of the road was still thick in the air, buffeting up the embankment on the wind, following me, but getting fainter. It felt as if I was leaving everything human behind, as I pushed my legs to the limit, pushed them until the muscles howled and my tongue lolled, thirsty, in my mouth. But I didn't stop. The scent of the trees… drives me out of my head. I need to find somewhere, far away from the humanplace- humans scare me, not-prey, not-predator. Soft and fleshy and edible yet still dangerous. I run on and the woodland gets thicker and then all at once I emerge in a field and the human scent is everywhere- everywhere and I turn my tail North and I turn my nose South and I launch myself away, into the calming wild, deeper and deeper into the chilly Scottish wilderness.

Howling.


	2. Chapter 2

2

_The little boy bent over me where I lay. I knew I probably should've been scared of him but I somehow wasn't. Even though he was a ghost and everything. Even though he had just told me someone I loved was going to die. It was probably something to do with the fact that he was fading fast- the fact that he was just a whisper now, a tendril of mist, barely blocking my view of the tree- shaded sky above._

_Gone. _

Ouch.

Was my first coherent thought.

I yawned widely, and then I realized I was waking up.

And I didn't remember going to sleep.

Actually- I didn't remember anything.

Since… Mike.

Yeah. Mike.

Suddenly, it flooded back in an icy tide, and I sat up, tingling. And then I realized I was a boy again. And… ew. My mouth tasted disgusting. But I didn't care.

_I changed into a wolf. I changed into a wolf and I could do it again._

These two facts were thrilling and whole inside me. They were glowing, like a talisman against the world. I was back to being human for now, clunky and awkward and weak, but sooner or later, I would learn how to do it. Learn how to become a wolf any time I wanted. And then- and then… I fizzed with excitement, actually jumped to let some of it out. And then I was free to do whatever I wanted for the rest of my life. I jumped and jumped. I jumped up and down on the twiggy forest floor, and let out a yell of joy.

Forest floor.

I looked around. I didn't know how far I had run, but I had woken up in a forest somewhere. Somewhere near the sea. I could smell salt- hear gulls. And I didn't know quite how I had ended up here. For a while there, I knew I'd been… out of it. Not me. But maybe that just happened when you became a wolf. You… _became_ a wolf. Inside your head as well as inside your body. I had the vague impression that this should be worrying to me, but it wasn't. It just wasn't.

I was free.

I lifted a hand to my face. I wanted to feel it, feel the skin that not so long ago had turned to fur. I touched my eyelids, felt the eyeballs beneath swivelling; traced the contours of my nose and…

My mouth. It was crusty with something dry and- I licked my lips- salty.

With a jolt of horror, I realized. Blood. My mouth was crusty with blood. And as for the taste _inside _my mouth… I gagged, dropped to all fours and _spat _and _spat _and _spat _and _spat_.

Because it wasn't Bannerman's. This blood tasted _good_. Horrific as it was, I had enjoyed this taste, I had loved it. Please please please oh god tell me I didn't kill someone.

And then- another fact hit me.

_This blood is not human blood, but rabbit blood._

I let out a shaky sigh, and a wide grin spread across my face. I didn't know how I knew. I knew it like I knew that the day was cold, and that I was near the sea. And yes it _was _freaky- that I'd hunted, killed and eaten a rabbit. But compared to having hunted, killed and eaten a _person_, it was nothing. Such a nothing that I couldn't stop giggling. I was on my knees, in the middle of some wood by the sea, laughing my head off. Oh- and covered in blood. I imagined what an unfortunate hiker would do, if they stumbled across me, and the thought made me laugh even harder. They'd be wetting themselves.

I stayed like that for a while. Eventually, though, I ran out of laughs. That's when I started trying to get the blood off. I knew, much as I detested it, I had to get back to the kid's home. For one thing, I had to let Mike know I was OK. I ran a hand through my hair. It was gluey- matted. How long had I been out here? He'd be panicking. He'd think that they'd found me; put me down for attacking Bannerman. I looked around me for further clues of where I was.

I realized the wood was not just near the sea- it was on the clifftop. I could faintly discern the washing of waves far below, mingled with the screaming of the gulls. But where was I?

I rocked back on my heels and closed my eyes, listening. Scenting. I seemed to _feel_ the low buzz of human-life before I heard it, and then I became aware of voices, electricity and cars. Over the smell of salt, I picked up… exhaust fumes. Fish and chips. Something sweet… chocolate! My stomach twisted angrily and I realized just how hungry I was. The rabbit I'd eaten last must have died the death quite a while ago.

So I might as well follow the sounds and follow the scents and get myself cleaned up and get myself something to eat.

I walked in what I knew was the right direction and as I did so I shoved my hands deep into my pockets. There was no money there- I had not expected there to be. That was fine.

It was a five minute walk before I emerged on the edge of a small village. Along the way I had scraped most of the dried blood off of my face, but I knew it wouldn't be enough. As I spotted a woman and a dog further along the road, I flipped up the hood on my hoodie, hiding my face from view. I realized I looked like a hooligan, but it was better than looking like someone who eats live rabbits when he feels like it.

The village was tiny- just a twisty road really, but bordered on either side by many squat white-washed cottages and a few shops. There were a number of gift-shops, a newsagent, a general store and a chocolate parlour, and furthest away, smelling _golden _as my stomach twisted again; a fish and chip shop, glass-fronted, fuggy with the heat from the kitchen and complete with little tables with red and white checkered table-clothes. My stomach growled as I went over to it and glanced inside, pretending to check the menu. There was only one other person in there; an old guy drinking tea in the corner. At the far end of the room, a tiny communal lavatory stood ajar.

I went inside.

The door tinkled merrily as I went in. The sound jarred as I let it fall back on itself.

A jolly-looking woman looked up from behind the counter. When she spoke her words were layered with a thick Cornish accent.

'Can I help you, love?'

'Yeah', I said,' I'd like… um… some chips please'.

'Anything else?'

'Ketchup'.

She pushed a bottle across the counter towards me.

'Thanks', I said,' and could I please wash up first? Because… me and my dad we're camping in the woods and I've gotten pretty dirty…' The lies just came out, and they sounded like the truth. I was quite proud of myself. She didn't look the slightest bit sceptical. Not in the slightest bit.

'Not at all', she motioned towards the toilet door, stood ajar at the end of the counter.

'Thanks'.

I pushed my way inside and locked it. It was tiny, like a toilet on an aeroplane. I sat down on the seat and when I twisted I could reach the sink and the mirror above it.

I had got rid of most of the dry blood on the way here, but my mouth was still rimmed with a faint trace of rusty brown. I ran some water and splashed it over the lower half of my face, rubbing hard with my hands. I squirted a bit of soap into one hand and repeated the movement, scrubbing until all trace of blood was gone. I inspected the rest of my face. It was looking surprisingly clean, considering. I picked at the dirt that had become lodged beneath my fingernails, and then washed my hands with more of the soap. The smell of it was lavender, rising like a warming steam and I felt myself calm. I didn't realize how knotted I'd been, how clenched, until it went away.

I stared at myself in the mirror. OK, so my hair needed a wash, but I _had _been camping with my dad for a week after all. I was bound to look a little grubby. But that was OK, we were going home tomorrow.

I straightened up and went back into the main café.

'Good timing!' said the Cornish woman,' yours is just ready!'

She had placed on the counter a plate of freshly made chips, still hot from the fat fryer.

'Thankyou so much', I whispered, as my stomach attempted to leap out of mouth in a bid to reach the food.

Pausing only to add ketchup, I took the seat nearest the counter and started wolfing down the chips. I felt the eyes of the old man and the cornish woman on me, but I didn't care. It must have been the wolf thing. It must really take it out of you. Because I had felt faint from hunger.

'Easy there!' exclaimed the Cornish woman,' give yourself stomach ache, eating it that fast!'

I slowed down a little,' sorry'.

'Don't apologize son, just concerned, that's all'.

I slowed to normal speed. Now that the yearning hunger had been abated, I wanted to savour these. They were the best chips I'd ever tasted.

'So you're camping with your father, then?' said the Cornish woman conversationally.

I nodded,' out in the woods'.

She nodded with me and began drying a plate with a tea towel emblazoned with the words, "Cornwall- land of timeless mystery."

'I didn't think you were from the school. Haven't seen you around before and anyway you're not wearing the uniform'.

I paused, chip halfway to mouth,' school?'

'The college, down by the cliffs. It's like a… specialist school, right, Ted?'

At first I didn't know who she was talking to, then the old man replied,' aye. None of 'em Polgammon kids get to go there'.

'It's for gifted kids. Y'know. Kid's who are extremely clever'.

I had a feeling that for some reason they disliked talking about this "specialist college", so I changed the subject.

'Do you know where the nearest town is? Because me and my dad thought we might catch the train home tomorrow'.

'Ah', said the Cornish woman, fumbling under the counter for something. She pulled it out with a flourish. It was a fold-up map of Cornwall,' here'.

She spread it on the counter and, swallowing my last chip, I went up and looked at it. She was pointing at a tiny dot labelled, "Polgammon".

'We're here', she said, and then traced her finger roughly Northwards on the map, about an inch,' and… _that's _the nearest town'.

She was pointing to a considerably larger dot further up the coast labelled, "Perranporth".

Breifly, I memorized the position. It was about half a mile away, quick a hike, and all of it through woodland. Still- if I concentrated hard I might be able to change to the wolf again, and that would shorten the journey considerably.

Having eaten, washed and discovered through my simply _outstanding _skills of detection that I was in Cornwall, it was time to leave.

'OK. I'm done', I said. I felt a familiar clench of mingled anticipation and fear as she typed it into her cash machine.

'That'll be two pounds seventy sweetheart'.

The sweetheart made me wince inside. Made me feel pretty bad, in fact.

'Oh', I said.

And legged it.


	3. Chapter 3

3

The date was at the top of the arrivals board as I pulled into Edinborough station. It was a Thursday. The _12__th_. I had been gone for eight days. I had been living as a wolf for more than a week.

I closed myself inside a payphone as soon as I got clear of the station and swiftly typed in the numbers for a reverse-charge call. I heard the tone and dialled Mike's flat number. It rang five times, and then someone answered and… it was Mike! I listened, impatiently fidgeting with the telephone wire as the operator asked Mike whether a reverse-charge call would be accepted.

'Yeah sure', he said, and I knew his mum must be out.

'OK caller, I'm putting you through now', said the charming-voiced woman on the line, imbetween me and Mike.

'Well don't rush yourself for god's sake', I muttered, as I heard the tone again, and I knew I could now speak with Mike.

'Hey Mike!' I said.

I heard him gasp at the other end of line. I could see him in my mind's eye, standing in the hall of his flat with the phone propped between his ear and his shoulder, most likely munching his way through a stack of toast. I know I heard the clink of the plate being dropped onto the hall table as he snatched away the phone and swapped ears, meaning business now.

'Mate!' he practically yelled,' you've been gone a week! The home has reported you as missing. This has been filed by the police as you trying to escape again!'

'Yeah well, they must be pretty dumb then', I snorted,' I haven't tried to run away since I was about nine. No point'.

'But where have you been, mate? Where? I was looking all over town for you. When I said run, I think you ran a bit further than I had in mind'.

'Reckon I did', I said, glancing at my battered watch. It told me the time was 3:46,' can I meet you anywhere…?'

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

After I finished telling Mike about my escapade in Cornwall, he was open-mouthed. His eyes gaped at me.

'You serious? You ran all the way to Cornwall? Mate-bit of an overreaction there, don't you think?'

'But you don't understand. I told you. I didn't know what I was doing- I don't even remember most of it! I don't remember any time when I was a wolf after I ran away from you'.

Thinking of this, I glanced swiftly to Mike's forehead. A large plaster lurked beneath his spiky fringe, covering the vanishing remains of his cut.

'And you went _hunting!_' he grinned and blanched in appalled fascination and amusement,' I mean- its gross, but its _so cool!_'

I grinned as well. Like lavender hand-soap, Mike had soothed my worries.

We had decided to meet halfway between out homes, at the bridge spanning the A road leading out of Edinborough. It was the same road I had sprinted across, eight days ago. This was what I was thinking of as I looked down at the speeding cars, rooftops flashing in the sun.

'They think you ran away because of Bannerman, you know', said Mike, suddenly.

I gaped at him, caught off-guard.

'They think _what_?'

'They think… because he was beating us up…' Mike looked at me beseechingly,' I'm sorry- I told them everything. Except your… fur issue of course. I told the truth right up until you changed, then I said there was a giant dog ran onto the playground and bit Bannerman, and you ran away'.

'Oh', I looked at the cars.

'Sorry'.

'No!' it came out sharper than I'd intended, but I wanted him to know,' no- I don't mind. It's a good story. They'll blame it on some escaped pet and I'll get off scot-free! Even if Bannerman says it was a wolf-'

'He did. He yelled it at the police actually. They didn't take it too well'.

I laughed, imagining it, and then the laugh faded,' is Bannerman alright?'

'Who cares?' said Mike loudly.

I looked at him.

'Arm in a sling but you didn't do anything serious. No muscle or bone-damage. No infection either, surprisingly; you've been using colgate on those wolfy teeth of yours, haven't you?'

I snorted and shoved him friendlily,' piss off'.

'Yeah but he's fine and so are the rest of the gang- even though you scared them shitless. Don't think they'll be taking us on again in a hurry'.

'Well!' I said,' everything's fine then, isn't it? Except now…' I looked over my shoulder, at the stretch of road I had come to hate,' I have to go home'.

'You don't though. You're a shapeshifter you can do what you want!' exclaimed Mike.

'Shapeshifter…' I repeated. I liked the word. I liked the way it seemed to fit with everything being a wolf felt like. But no. I would be free. I wasn't yet.

'When I've learnt to shift at will, then I'll leave. But until then…'

I turned to leave, but Mike stopped me. Put a hand on my shoulder.

'You'll still visit, won't you?' he said.

'I told you- I'm not leaving now!' I grinned back at him,' and there's no need to go all gay about it!'

He snatched his hand away and shoved my shoulder comradely,' you wish, mate, you wish!'

And we went our separate ways.


	4. Chapter 4

4

Not many adults were around when I let myself in. I could hear voices issuing down the hall from beneath the main office door; indistinct, unintelligible. One of them was head social-worker Marie's. I recognized it from the times when, at eight, me and a friend(long siphoned off to a happy foster home) used to crouch at the top of the stairs, eavesdropping at people getting told off.

I started up the stairs, and sure enough, sitting giggling at the top were our replacements; James and Mickey Roe, the seven-year-old twins. When they saw me they giggled even harder.

'You're in _trouble_', said James delightedly,' there's people to see you and they said that they might need a special unit to find you'.

I paused, halfway up the stairs.

'What you on about?' the contempt in my voice was undermined as I glanced worriedly at the door to Marie's office.

Mickey laughed,' well there's a lady and these two men and they said, right, that they wanted to talk to you and Marie says they can't- obviously coz you run away, right, and when they hear that they get all worried and the lady goes outside and telephones someone and the two guys, right, they're talking down there in the hall, coz they fink no-one can hear them, but we hear them and they're saying stuff about… well, really important stuff and they're all really worried about this important stuff, right, and then the one with the suit says to the one with long hair- "are you sure we shouldn't dispatch a special unit to find him?" and then Marie comes in and they stop talking then'.

'They gonna diz-patch a special unit on you!' said James gleefully, through the gaps in his teeth.

Mickey giggled inanely.

'Sod off, you little pricks', I said, pushing my way past.

Typically, at the exact moment that social-worker Simon backs out of the airing cupboard with a sheet and quilt-cover. Damn. Swearing infront of little kids- _at _little kids? That's going to cost me a heck load of free time.

Simon gaped at me,' you're back?'

'Yeah but no need to worry- not for long'.

Simon blinked,' you've heard then?'

'Nope- and don't bother- I'm not listening to nothing till I've showered and changed'.

I unlocked the door to the room I shared with a kid called Pete Greenly, who was thirteen and an asshole, grabbed a towel, a T Shirt, my trainers and jeans, and hammered on the door to the tiny en-suite.

'Who is it?' called a voice from inside that grated my nerves like a ginger press.

'You know who it is Greenly. Get out'.

I heard the bolt shoot back, and Pete's face appeared in the gap in the door, along with a puff of steam. His hair was soaked, and slicked back from his forehead.

'Well', he said,' thought you got run out of town?'

'No Greenly, that was just a dream you had', I said, shoving my foot in the door so he couldn't close it on me.

'You got visitors, you know. Not going to keep them waiting are you? Wouldn't want a special unit sent up here to drag you out of the shower!'

I yanked back the door. Pete had a towel wrapped neatly around his waist, and a comb in his hand. He'd obviously been slicking back his hair for some time before I interrupted.

'What the hell _is _this about a "special unit"?' I snapped.

Pete shrugged,' how should I know? Heard it off one of the girls at lunchtime. Apparantly you've pissed off quite a lot of people though. They're taking it a _lot _more seriously then Marie and that. I mean- us lot thought you'd just gone off on another sulk-'

I shoved past him and slammed the door shut, shooting back the bolt so hard it chipped the plaster in the wall.

Asshole.

Showering, I let the water run over me, washing away all trace of the previous week. From my skin at least.

I was frowning, and not in confusion.

Special unit.

The words ran round my brain, spinning faster and faster. Bad words. Not like "shapeshifter". They hurt. They made me afraid. I could turn into a wolf. So far, I had only seen it as a good thing. My freedom, that's what it was. But to _them_, whoever _they _were, I was _bad_. I was _dangerous_. I had bitten Garth. Yes- he was fine. But what if next time; next time when I lost it, next time when I wasn't me- what if next time whoever was on the receiving end _wasn't _OK. It was a possibility. I'd like to think that I'd never ever hurt anyone- but I'm sure a week ago, if it occurred to me, I'd swear blind that I'd never ever hunt and eat a rabbit.

So I didn't know.

I reached for the towel, flung over the side of the bath, and as I straightened back up, I saw him. The ghost. The ghost that I'd practically forgotten already, staring at me through the steam and the shower-screen.

'Oi!' I said it automatically, snatching up the towel and covering myself up.

The ghost seemed to shimmer as the steam rose around him; he looked like a projection on the glass of the shower-screen, but he was perfect in every detail to the image in my dream.

He opened his mouth, but before he could speak there came a deafening, hammering knocking on the door, and the little-boy ghost simply melted into the steam.

'_Greenly_', I snarled, tumbling out of the bath and fumbling with my clothes.

The knocking on the door ceased as I awkwardly pulled my jeans over damp legs.

'What do you _want_?' I yelled.

'For you to open up'.

It was a voice I didn't recognize. I yanked the T Shirt over my head, kicked my old clothes into a corner and opened the door.

A man stood there. He wasn't one of the social-worker's- though both Simon and Marie were at his elbow, peering at me in concern. The man was thin, kind of twisty-looking. One dark brown eye pointed ever-so slightly towards the other one. He had a mop of brown hair that stuck out even more than mine did. I stared at him. For almost a minute. Until the edges of my eyes went slightly shimmery.

It was the _smell _on the guy. He smelt like… _violence_. Just a pulse of it, just for a second, but it sent all the hairs on my neck tingling.

And then he grinned wildly, and stuck out his hand for me to shake,' I'm Patrick Wood', he said amiably, shaking my damp hand profusely.

And then I was even more scared.

'What do you want?' I asked, rather harshly, even though I tried to keep my voice under control. This was special-unit man. I knew it.

He raised an eyebrow at me,' well- I think we should discuss this downstairs in your charming head-of-care's office'.

He smiled widely at Marie, and she beamed back. I saw again that shimmery motion in the air and blinked and rubbed my eyes.

'You gave us a scare, there', commented Patrick Wood, on the way down the stairs,' running away like that'.

'I wasn't running away', I said.

'Whatever happened', he gave me a calculating stare at this,' you gave us quite a scare'.

I smelt another emotion, seeping from the man. Determination. And that's when I realized fully, even though, deep down, I'd known from the start. He knew. The bastard knew.

I considered the front door as we stepped down into the hall. Could I make it? Maybe if it was open. But it was shut and bolted, and the inside door was shut as well. So I followed Wood into the office, where another man with icy-blue eyes, and a woman with dull auburn hair, sat waiting for us.

'Hello', said the man, standing up quickly to shake my hand,' glad to see you're back with us. I'm Owen Hind'.

'Hi'.

Almost without realizing it, I was scenting this man for the same determination as was on his companion. It was there, but there was less of it, and mingled with concern and relief and excitement it was less frightening. The woman behind him was... weird. I couldn't quite tell what she was thinking, and when she shook my hand there was a snap of electricity between our hands, and my hair stood on end. 'I'm Paulina Sartre', she said.

'Hi'.

She nodded and smiled,' hmmm', she murmurred and I picked up a pulse of worry as she sat back down.

'I suppose no-one's told you what's going on?' said Owen, sitting back down in his chair and motioning me to take the one opposite. Wood sat in the one behind the desk, and Marie, whose chair he had commandeered, simply hovered at the edge of the room.

'No', I said slowly. But I could guess. They all knew. How much had they told Marie?

'Well', said Patrick Wood, steepling his finger together over the desk and smiling widely at me,' I'm actually _Principal _Wood. Of Tregarren College, down in Cornwall. It's a school for particularly gifted children like yourself'.

I snorted,'Me? _"particularly gifted"?_ In _what _exactly?'

I couldn't help myself. The lie was so pathetic.

_Come on, _I thought, _let's be straight with each other. I turn into a wolf and its scaring you shitless._

'You have a number of… unique abilities', for a second, the smile on Principal Wood seemed to freeze, and then it stretched wider like a bag strap caught in a car door,' things only specialised tests would pick up. But they are, neverless there, and we are offering you the chance to enhance these special abilities at our school'.

This was an odd turn of events, something I had not expected. There had always been two options open to me that I could see, and those had been the home or the street. Now I had a third.

I thought about it. If he was telling the truth, if there actually was a "Tregarren College", then surely it would be a good thing to… enhance my abilities. Be able to do it on and off, whenever I wanted. Maybe even learn to become other things as well. And then, when I hit eighteen, when I was no longer a kid… freedom. I would make it out, right out into the wild and hole up there for as long as I wanted. I would never have to get a job, I could hunt when I was hungry, steal all the money I wanted. But… I had resigned myself to this. I would never lose myself like I had that first time. Never again. _Anything _could've happened. Anything _might've _happened- I had no way of knowing what I did or didn't do. No. That wouldn't happen again.

'You can start at Tregarren as soon as all the necessary paperwork is done' said Mrs Sartre (I saw Marie sigh).

'Provided you _do_ want to go', Wood peered at me, his slightly wonky eyes scrutinising my face.

I didn't need to think anymore,' sure', I said,' Cornwall- here I-'

Something clicked in my mind.

'Is it anywhere near a village called Polgammon?' I asked suddenly.

_Specialist school…_

_None of 'em Polgammon kids get to go there…_

_It's for gifted kids…_

'Yes', Wood was looking at me calculatingly, Owen Hind curious,' as a matter of fact that's the only village within a hundred yards'.

'I've been there before', I explained,' bit of a coincidence'.

'Coincidence', repeated Wood, and I felt his eyes on me again, like they were trying to bore into my head like ringworms after the truth. I looked away, only to find Marie staring at me in confusion. We had never, ever had an official trip to Cornwall.

Keep your mouth shut, I willed her, and to my relief and astonishment, she did.

'Well', said Owen,' if that's all sorted out. Better get packing. We'll be back for you by Monday'.

Marie squawked indignantly,' Mr Hind- how on god's earth am I supposed to-'

She was cut short as Wood slipped him arm through hers and bestowed upon her a winning smile. I blinked to clear my eyes as they wavered slightly, watching as Marie practically swooned in Wood's arms.

I glanced at Owen, to see him rolling his eyes. I looked back to Wood.

He's controlling her, I realized, or hypnotizing her or something.

I felt a hot flash of anger and- dear god. It almost happened. I had _felt _the wolf rising inside me. I had pictured myself sinking my long fangs into his screaming neck, right up to the gums. I shook my head, and found Owen's eyes on me, where I stood, immobile by Marie's desk.

'Problem?' he asked.

Yes. This Wood's a total prick and no-one but me can see it, I almost gave my head of care a heart attack by shifting into a wolf in front of her, I desperately want to talk to Mike but I have no phone and some chav destroyed the communal one just inside the door, and whoever heard of a scholarship announced four days in advance?

But I looked back at him levelly and shrugged.

'Nope', I said.


	5. Chapter 5

5

I ran all the way to Cornwall.

All the way to Polgammon.

All the way to Tregarren College.

Why?

Lying on my back in bed, I watched the orange glare of car headlights sweep across the ceiling. The neon glow of Pete Greenly's alarm clock told me it was 2:31. I had been lying awake since ten , listening to the burblings of the half-asleep house; pipes and shifting floorboards. The house settling, my dad used to say. My mind wandered to him, wandered a good eight years back, back to when things were good. He'd been the tallest dad in the playground. When I came out of my year one class I could always spot him, towering above the other mums and dads. He was _strong _too- he used to pick me up and swing me round in huge circles- probably still could _now _if…

If he hadn't topped himself.

I turned over. Those were the last days I'd felt safe; happy. I had never felt these things at the home. Don't get me wrong, the carers were always nice, probably more than tolerant of me and my… ways. There were just too many rules. And I resented- oh, I resented so much- being classed as a "problematic case". Even though it was probably true, thinking about all the times I'd sworn at them, sulked, screamed until they left me alone, stole, yelled at the other kids for nothing, and run away. Five times. They didn't have to _class _me as anything. You tell someone they're ill, they start to feel ill. Tell someone just how scary an exam paper it is, they start to panic about the exam.

I turned over again. I was back to looking across the room towards Greenly, and Greenly's clock. The time was now 2:43. I sighed and closed my eyes.

Tregarren was real. As much as I distrusted Wood, I believed that. It was the other guy. Owen. He'd been telling me the truth, I could tell. Tregarren was real and, right now, it was best way out of this place. Maybe that was why I ran to it. Subconsciously, in wolf form, I gravitated to what was safest. Animals did that, didn't they? They could tell when a tsunami or something was coming, and they all moved to the safety of the higher ground. But why hadn't I just run into the wilderness? Surely that was what was safest to a wolf?

But you don't get any wolves in the wild any more, do you? Not in Britian.

_A school for particularly gifted children… like yourself._

If that meant what I thought it meant, perhaps I _had_ emigrated to the only place in Britian still containing wild wolves.

Other shapeshifters… I smiled in the dark. That was amazing. What if the others had different forms as well? How cool would that be? I would have to find some other large animal to piss off, get a decent wolf-shaped fight.

I smiled in the darkness. Tommorow, I would bunk off again, find some secluded area and practise and practise until I could do it on the fly. And come back to human shape as easily. And I would get Mike to come, so I could fill him in on everything that'd been going on. I turned once again, and this time it was for the last time, as slowly, I dropped off to sleep.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Turns out I didn't need to bunk off. Owen Hind had called, suggesting to Marie that I stay home for the day, and pack. Fine by me. As the rest of the kids filed out, I borrowed Marie's mobile and called Mike's home number. His mum answered.

'Can I speak to Mike please?' I asked.

'He's just leaving- HOLD ON MIKE!' this last was hollered towards the front door, where I knew he would be standing, looking annoyed.

There was a pause, and then his came through on the end of the line.

'Hello?'

'It's me!'

'Oh- hi, mate', he sounded tired.

'Listen- I have a ton of shit to tell you about', I said quickly,' I'm gonna try do it again. You OK for bunking off again?'

I could almost _see _his shrug,' yeah sure. I'll just set off in the right direction- mum'll never know'.

'Where can I meet you?'

'How about the youth club? That's if you're not averse to breaking in'.

I snorted,' doesn't matter does it? They're tearing it down anyway. I'll meet you there in about an hour. I've gotta pack before I'm allowed out'.

Mike paused at his end of the line,' pack?'

'I'll explain later', I said quickly, as Marie came in and pointed to her mobile, making the "wrap it up" sign,' see you later mate'.

It didn't take long to pack. I crammed all my clothes into my rucksack, except my old school uniform, which I left on the bathroom floor. I would hardly be needing it now, now that I would never go back. There was just enough room for my cds on the top of the clothes, then I filled a plastic bag with the rest of my stuff; a few dvds and books, my second hoodie and a computer game I only got to play for half an hour after homework time, or when I went over to Mike's house. I dumped the bags on my bed, then as an afterthought, took down the Radiohead poster from above it. It wasn't mine- it had belonged to the guy who slept here before Greenly, but I somehow didn't like to leave it. When it was down and rolled up inside the plastic bag, my half of the room looked bare and empty. I wouldn't miss this place.

Down in the hall, I knocked on the door to Marie's office and yelled,' going out!', then went before she could drag me back. I still had a good twenty minutes before I was supposed to be meeting Mike, so I walked down to the bridge. Looking down on the traffic, which had greatly depleted since yesterday, I thought about dad. He had used to say, about the day I was born. The 7th July. It had been the hottest summer in ages, and then, at one in the morning, just as my mum went into labour, the first snowflakes began to fall.

'It was crazy', dad had said,' I was driving her to hospital in this _blizzard_. It's a good thing it's only a five minute drive from the house. We only just made it before all the roads just… froze! No-one could get through. People were abandoning their cars and walking home. And in _July_! It was crazy!'

And then, at about five in the morning, I was born, and the sun rose red and hot and summery and by the afternoon, all the snow was melted away.

'I mean, I know we live in Scotland- but that's just mad!'

I spat off the bridge, but didn't hit a car. Thinking about dad was painful- even the good times. Somehow I couldn't get the image of him stiff and cold in his favourite armchair out of my head. I spat again.

That was when the lorry pulled up. At first I didn't look around. Not until I heard the swift footsteps, coming towards me, and I turned. The lorry driver was tall and bearded and wearing a blue boiler suit.

'Yeah?' I said.

In one swift movement, he grabbed me expertly in an armlock and hauled me towards the back of the lorry, where another blue-suited man had opened the tail-gate. Before I could yell out, I was thrust into the back of the lorry, and the door was slammed shut.

Looking across the empty metal container, I saw Owen Hind and Patrick Wood.

'What the hell?' I yelled, and the engine started up, a growling roar beneath me,' hey!'

'Do it', said Owen Hind harshly,' _shift_'.

'Eff off!' I snarled. He sighed.

Both he and Wood pulled a white mask out of their pocket, and stretched it across the lower half of their faces. Wood was smiling, right at me.

And I smashed right into the side of the lorry and beat my fists against it, smashing and kicking and making so much noise I was surprised that no-one on the outside heard me. But there was no-one to hear. And even if there _had _been someone walking by, the banging would be drowned out by the sound of the cars as they passed indifferent and unknowing beneath us.

I rounded on the two men, to see Owen, pouring a small amount of liquid from a tiny bottle onto the metal container's floor. He stoppered the bottle and slipped it back into a pocket in his jacket, as a vile smoke began to rise.

I hammered once more on the side of the lorry, but with every breath I tasted the substance; hot and peppery at the back of my throat. Indescribable panic had descended upon me, locking all my limbs, making it hard to breath. My vision swam, turned white, then faded slowly to black.

And then I opened my eyes. The two men, I noted with a flash of satisfaction, were looking scared. Patrick Wood had his hand inside his coat, and I scented instantly something metal, something other from the lorry interior. I realized then that I was growling at him.

'Now listen', Owen said, the teacher from Tregarren, holding his hands up as if trying to reason with an angry parent,' we had to do that. What you inhaled was a drug called Triple Eight which brings about a panic attack and brief unconsciousness. You can't shift at will yet so it's the only way to prove that you are, in fact, a COLA. We _have _to be a hundred percent sure that someone's a COLA, before they can come to Tregarren'.

I _barked_. It felt good.

'Let me explain', said Owen, hastily. Wood had not spoken or moved from his position in the corner, one hand inside his coat pocket.

'Tregarren College _is _a school for particularly gifted children. But these are children with… rather _unusual _gifts', he glanced at his companion, who seemed to finally relax. His lazy grin spread across his face like ink through water.

'Children who can move things with their minds, telekinetics we call them', piped up Wood,' and healers- kids who can heal someone with their thoughts; mediums, children who communicate with the dead; dowsers- finders of missing objects, or missing people; clairvoyents- mind-readers, and glamourists- that's kids who can mess with your mind- basically, make you see something that isn't there or stop seeing _them_. So far- you are our only shapeshifter'.

I felt a surge of disappointment. No wolf-shaped fights for me then- unless there was someone there who particularly pissed me off... I locked eyes with Wood.

'We call these children COLA's. That's Children of Limitless Ability', continued Owen.

Limitless Ability… I felt the fur on the nape of my neck stand on end.

'Now obviously COLA powers are kept strictly secret. There are, of course, people across the country who know _something _about it- after all, the first displays can't be controlled, so people do end up witnessing some extraordinary things. And speaking of that'- Patrick Wood leaned in-'you're friend Michael Setter. Think he'll be a problem? Think he'll tell anyone?'

I shook my head fervently.

Owen was smiling,' don't look so worried! What d'you think we're going to do to him?'

And then Patrick Wood said,' and the kid that you attacked. Garth Bannerman isn't it? We've got four eye-witnesses swearing it was a wolf they saw attacking them. Luckily, no-one saw the actual change apart from your friend Michael, so it should be easy to contain'.

I nodded clumsily and Owen laughed,' maybe we should continue this conversation when you can answer back!'

He pulled out a packet of tinfoil, inside of which he had some cold sausages.

'Cooked them this morning', he said,' so far the only way you can shift back is by going asleep. The unconscious mind reverts automatically to its true form. Animals always want to sleep after they've eaten, so- here'.

He passed me the sausages. They looked good and I _was _peckish, but I still held back. I sniffed them suspiciously, and glanced up at Patrick Wood. His face was unreadable.

'Relax', said Owen,' there's nothing dodgy in them. You'd be able to smell it, I imagine'.

He was right, I _would _be able to smell it. I ate them, one at a time, and then- yes- I _was_ feeling sleepy. I curled up on the ground, keeping my eyes on the two men at the far end of the container. Keeping one ear cocked, I quickly drifted off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

6

The lorry dropped me off, conveniently, a couple of roads away from the home. It also happened to be a couple of roads away from the youth club building, a- mostly- empty hall. But they weren't to know that.

'No hard feeling, right?' said the lorry driver, anxiously, as, back in boy form, I climbed out of the back of the lorry.

'No hard feelings?' I snorted,' you just kidnapped me and threw me in the back of a lorry!'

The driver shrugged sheepishly,' just a job, son. We're bodyguards usually'.

I had waited until they had driven off before I set off, not in the direction of the home, but towards the youth club. When I got there, I was only just over half an hour late. The ordeal in the back of the lorry had taken less time than I had expected.

Mike was waiting for me inside, powering up one of the battered computers that lined one wall.

'Hey', he said, as I came in, closing to door, with its broken lock, behind me,' you get waylaid?'

'You could say that', I said, and then I told him all about the conversation in the office the day before, and the more recent encounter in the back of the lorry.

'Shit', said Mike, as the computer ever-so-slowly loaded the desktop,' they sound like… government people or something. How d'you know getting sent to this school is for your own good and not for the good of… everyone else?'

'I don't', I said. Then I grabbed the keyboard off one of the other computers, tore it out of the socket and hurled it across the room.

'This sucks!' I yelled, as the keyboard smashed against the far wall. Seconds later, the mouse went the same way,' I just want to be left _alone_. I don't want to go to some dumb government school!'

'Hey- calm down, mate', said Mike, swivelling in his seat,' it might be OK. You never know. It can't be worse than _our_ school- and then when you leave and you're free to do whatever you want, aren't you?'

'Oh yeah', I said, dropping into the seat beside Mike,' like they'll _ever _leave me alone now. What- you think when we hit 18 we'll just be released into civilisation?'

'Well- yeah. Maybe that's the point. You've got these amazing talents and they need to show you how to control them so you aren't a danger to people and you can live a normal life'.

We lapsed into silence. I hadn't thought of this, and now he'd said it I didn't know why. I felt an upsurge of gratitude towards Mike. That made sense- didn't it? But I still couldn't trust Patrick Wood. And in my head there was still tumult. I was the only shapeshifter, so why had I run to Cornwall? What was it about Wood that I hated so much? And- I sat up suddenly- the ghost. The little boy ghost. The little boy ghost who told me someone I loved would die. I stared at Mike, my best friend. He had loaded up the internet, and was now patiently closing a number of pop-ups as they flicked up.

'What are you doing?' I asked.

_Someone you love…_

'Thought I'd show you this website I found'.

I waited for him to load it and I felt dread inside me. But why would he? Why would Mike die?

'We'd be using my computer but mum's in the flat… AH!' this last was directed at the computer. He slapped its side in frustration,' come on!'

Bit by bit, the screen loaded. Bit by bit, I saw the words: Shapeshifting- fact or fiction? Emblazoned in red on a black background.

'Look', said Mike,' he clicked on a link entitled "Navajo Indians- Skinwalkers". As he scrolled down the page, I skim-read some of it. It seemed to be mostly about people inhaling trippy substances and there was a bit about werewolf legends.

'Yeah?' I said,' what?'

Mike clicked on another link, and this brought him to another page, and this one was just a few photographs- no text. They were old; brown instead of black and white. The first couple showed a man, dressed in Victorian gentleman's clothes, breathing in smoke, but the third… a huge dog had taken his place. It seemed to be slumbering at the very bottom of the picture. In the fourth the dog had awaken, and was staring directly at the camera.

'Triple Eight…' I murmured.

'What's that?' said Mike.

'You know I told you- this Hind guy put some of this stuff on the floor and it started smoking and breathing some of the smoke in brought about the change?'

'Oh yeah!' Mike looked round at me, excited,' so you think that's what it is?'

'Well it could be, couldn't it? Either that or some Victorian bloke fancied a laugh with his dog'.

Mike snorted,' yeah- that doesn't sound wrong at all! But yeah-it's more than likely that _that's_ true, a _ton _of the stuff I've found has obviously been faked'.

Suddenly, I heard a noise from outside.

'Shhh!' I said to Mike, and he shut up.

I had not imagined it. Someone was scrunching up the gravel path outside.

'Someone's coming!' I hissed.

'_Shit!_' yelped Mike. He pressed the power button down, holding it till the computer abruptly switched off,' come on- let's go out the back way'.

We made for the back exit, Mike first. He twisted the door handle, but met with resistance.

'It's _locked_!' he said.

'OK, OK', I said, looking wildly around but seeing there was no escape,' act natural. We saw it'd been broken in and we investigated- right?'

'Right', Mike looked and sounded uncertain, and he was right to be. How, after all, were we going to explain our absence from school?

Turns out we didn't need too. The man the walked in was thickset and ugly. His arm was in a sling, wrapped tightly in bandages hiding, I knew, the livid bruises my teeth had left in him. It was Garth Bannerman.

He spotted us immediately,' hey!' he snarled. He looked angry- _livid_, but at the same time scared. I wondered if on some level Bannerman knew where the wolf had came from, because as his eyes fastened with mine I saw distrust and fear in them.

'You pricks better get out of here pretty damn fast', he shouted.

And for some reason this made me mad,' not gonna take us on, Bannerman? Learning from our mistakes, are we?'

Bannerman glared me down as he tried to think of a come-back, but did not move any closer.

'I got better things to do than "take on" you two', he spat.

'Oh right', exclaimed Mike, suddenly,' _this _is where you and your dickhead friends get high'.

I think he didn't mean to say it, but he had gone too far. Bannerman lunged across the room and grabbed Mike by the front of his shirt,' you repeat that anywhere else you little prick, and it'll be the last thing you ever do'.

'Get off him!' I yelled, and swung a punch at Bannerman's face; a punch which connected surprisingly well with his cheek, knocking him away.

Then Bannerman pulled a knife.

And for a moment it was all I could see.

_Shift! Shift now!_

And Bannerman was coming towards me and I was grabbing the hand that held the knife and turning it and still not shifting and Mike was trying to stop it, trying to stop him but he was insane, he was scared and he was angry and somehow, after seconds of tussling, Bannerman let go and stumbled away and I heard a clatter and he was looking at me in horror. But not me. He was looking _behind _me in horror. And I slowly turned. And Mike was on the ground, and the knife was on the floor, where it had fallen and they were both covered in the same blood.

Mike's blood.

I dropped to my knees beside Mike. Heard Bannerman stumbling away. He was sobbing, like when he'd got bitten but this time it wasn't him hurt. It was Mike. My Mike.

_Someone you love…_

And I looked at Mike who was breathing quickly and holding back sobs as well, and I followed the patterns of blood, up to his arm. The stab wound was boring into his left arm, halfway between his shoulder and the crook of his elbow. It about 10cm long, running in a jagged line towards the latter. And deep. I could tell that just by looking.

'Hold on Mike', I whispered,' I'll get help. Just- just… wait here'.

'Duh', muttered Mike but he couldn't smile and neither could I.

I ran out and I knew where I was running. Drizzle dampened my hair and my clothes and my face as I sprinted towards the kid's home. I didn't have my key. I'd left my key in my room…

I would just have to hope Marie was still in.

As I rounded the corner, I could see here through the window of the kitchen, peering out. She waved at me as I charged towards her, and then she seemed to realize that something was wrong. When I fell, gasping at the door, she caught me.

'Mike!' I gasped. I was struggling for words. I couldn't organize my breathing and talking,' _ambulance_!'

'Calm down', she said, and she was leading me inside, into the lounge, onto the sofa,' calm down and _breath_'.

I did. I drew in long rattling breaths until I found my voice.

'Bannerm-man', I said shakily,' has- he's…'

'_Calm_', she said.

I breathed a little more. You've got to pull yourself together. Got to get help or Mike will die.

'Mike's been stabbed', I said, finally,' at the youth club. Bannerman did it'.

Marie's eyes widened,' I'll call an ambulance', she said,' and the police. And then you can take me there. Do you know his mother's phone number?'

I led her back towards Mike. I got there first. I ran the fastest. He still lay in the same position, but the amount of blood had increased. His whole left side was soaked and he was deathly white.

'Ma-ate', he mumbled, his voice slurred, as Marie took control.

I sat there holding his good hand as she phoned and asked and paced and phoned. It seemed like an age before I heard the sound of sirens in the distance, getting louder.

'They're coming, Mike', I said, but he'd passed out.

And the ambulance came. And they loaded him up onto a stretcher and stretchered him in the back of it. And I wasn't allowed to go with him.

'No I don't think you should', said Marie, grabbing my arm,' you've had enough stress for one day. You can visit him when he's conscious- when he's better'.

And the ambulance driver agreed and that was the last I had to say.

And then the police came.

'We need to establish what happened here', said one of them, and I hated him already.

_When did me and my friend get there? _I got there about ten and Mike was already there._ Had we arranged to meet Bannerman there? _No._ Why were me and my friend there in the first place? _To use the computers. (I got a sceptical look at this that damn near boiled my blood, but the guy continued)._ Why did I think Bannerman was there? _No idea. But Mike said it was the place he got high and that's when he got mad._ And when your friend said that, he attacked him? _He grabbed his shirt and threatened him, and I shoved him away and he attacked _me_._ If he attacked you, how is it that your friend is the one stabbed and not you? _Mike got in the way… he was trying to pull Bannerman off, I think.

_I see._

This wasn't a question- so I didn't answer it.

Later- what seemed like an inexhaustible amount of time later- Marie drove me home in her car. She'd picked it up while I was being questioned. The dark of the evening was expanding already. Winter was descending fast and so was the sun. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and the time was 5:56. How had that happened? I rested my head against the cool car window and the lights outside slid across the glassy surface. We didn't speak, even when we both saw the figure, silhouetted in the front door of the home, casting a long grey shadow across the lawn, dappled gold in the hall light.

I got out of the car and slammed the door. I walked slowly around the car, and heard Marie greet the silhouette as she went in. I stared at the figure and the inexplicable hate rose up in me like vomit.

It was Patrick Wood.


	7. Chapter 7

7

'What are _you _doing here?' I said, staring at Wood. I was _way _beyond being polite.

'Well actually', he said and his eyes were hard,' responding to phone call your head-of-care gave me'.

I looked around, but Marie was already inside, out of my glare-sight.

'Well actually- we came because we thought _you _had been stabbed. It was a bad line'.

I very nearly shifted then. My whole body juddered, and I saw his eyes flick to mine with a look of both horror and fascination.

'What?' I yelled,' so you wouldn't've bothered moving your arses if you _knew _it was Mike that's been stabbed. Don't worry about _Mike, _oh no, _Mike _isn't _important _enough!'

'Why don't you come inside?' he said.

'EFF OFF!'

Owen appeared behind Wood and Marie behind Owen, and more kids were behind Marie and I knew that all heard my yell, and I didn't care. I. Did. Not. Care.

'I'm not coming inside, Wood, till _you're _outside. Oh yeah, I _know _what a _bastard _you are- I can _smell _it! All this _hypnosis _shit- I can smell a fake from a mile away!'

And I shoved past him and hared straight up the stairs because it was coming, the change, born out of anger and fear and self-loathing and guilt, and I only just managed to slam and bolt the bathroom door before it happened. And there I was. A wolf in the tiny bathroom.

What's the effing use of changing _now_?

Mike could be _dead _now.

That he wasn't, was not because of me- it was because of blind luck.

I hated myself.

After a few minutes, Marie knocked nervously on the door. I was curled up in the shower stall, the screen pulled to.

'Hello?' she said,' are you in there?'

I didn't reply. I couldn't. But if I was human I don't think I would have anyway.

Then there was silence for a while, and Owen's scent seeped under the door and he knocked gently and murmured,' have you shifted in there? Is that why you won't come out?'

I growled lowly, but I know he heard me.

'OK', he said loudly,' he needs a bit of space right now. Let him sleep there if he likes. I'm sure he'll come out in the morning'.

This last was directed at me. I curled into a tighter ball and slowly, I let myself drop into a fitful sleep.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

When I woke, I was a boy again. My face was pressed against the shower-screen, my breath was clinging to the glass. Awkwardly, I clawed my way up the smooth surface, into a vague semblance of the sitting position. I pushed away the screen and tumbled out onto the bathroom floor.

I groaned.

And slowly stood up. I caught a glimpse of myself as I rose, in the mirror hung above the sink. I stared at my reflection. In the past week that face had elongated into a wolf face and back, twice. Looking at me, you wouldn't know it. Tousled dark hair, silver-grey eyes, few smiles. I was the same person I always had been.

Or was I?

I was broken out of this reverie by a knock on the door.

An uncertain voice assailed me. It was Pete Greenly,' look-er… are you alright? You OK in there?' There was a long silence,' there's breakfast out here for you… if you want it. You don't have to eat it with the others'.

I didn't know why the carers had sent _Greenly_ to tempt me out. Surely they knew that we didn't exactly get along? And I thought about it. They _did _know. So… maybe Greenly hadn't been sent, maybe he was genuinely worried.

I opened the door.

Greenly was across at the other. He looked like he was about to leave. One hand was stretched out towards the handle. When he looked round and saw me, he slowly lowered it, and put it in a pocket.

'You back?' he asked, not unkindly.

'Yeah', I said, slowly,' maybe'. I spotted a tray on my bed with a full English breakfast on it. My stomach made an involuntary leap,' that for me?'

'Yeah'.

I sat lightly on the bed and pulled it onto my lap. I expected Greenly to leave but he didn't. He sat down on the bed opposite.

As I wolfed the breakfast he stared out of the window and said,' when you're finished you can go to the hospital. Mike's out of surgery now and doing fine'.

I stuffed the rest of the food and swallowed heavily,' thanks', I said.

I got up to leave and he was silent for a moment. I had my hand on the door-handle when he said,' and I'm sorry about what happened'.

I looked back at him and he was staring at his fingernails,' I mean. Mike's a cool guy. Tell him "get well soon" from me'.

'I will', I said.

'Thanks'.

It seemed this was all Pete had to say, and I was desperate to get to the hospital.

'I'll see you later', I said.

'Yeah, seeya'.

I took the stairs three at a time. Mickey Roe was at the bottom, sucking his thumb. He took it out of his mouth long enough to say,' hello', and then started sucking again.

If a Roe was being nice to you, you were usually leaving. Or something bad had happened to you. In my case of course- both were true.

'Marie!' I said loudly. The kerfuffle in dining room told me the rest of the home was still eating breakfast. I knocked on the door to Marie's office, and she opened it.

'Oh yes', she said,' Simon's taking you. I hope you don't mind- I've just got a lot on my plate…'

'That's fine where is he?'

She blinked,' he's not taking you _now_. _He's _got a lot on his plate as well'.

I frowned at her,' I'm going now'.

'They won't let you in without adult supervision-'

'I'll _find_ a way in', I snapped, and then a cool voice broke over our conversation.

'Don't worry, Miss Reeve', it said,' I'll take him. I was going there anyway'.

It was Owen.

'Thanks', I said, and looked back at Marie,' you'll tell Simon, yeah?'

'No!', she said,' no- this is against all regulations. You're not a carer or a parent- it's against the rules!'

'Sod that!' I said loudly.

She sighed at me,' I'm sorry but I can't just let you drive off with someone…'

'Fine', I said,' I'll walk. Coming, Mr Hind?'

It wasn't like I wanted his company. When I'd said I'd find a way in, I'd meant it. I wanted him to come so as make a point to my head carer. He understood this I knew, but it didn't stop him catching up as I stepped down onto the road and crossed it.

'You know maybe you should be more polite to your carers- they _are _trying to help after all'.

'Don't you start'.

We walked in silence for a bit.

'You _did _shift last night, didn't you?'

'Yeah. For all the good it did, _hours _after…'

'I was wondering why you didn't shift while the police were taking down your statement', said Owen, thoughtfully,' Wood and I panicked when we realized how long it'd been since the incident, by the time we found out about it. We usually try to keep the police out of it'.

I shrugged, but I was curious,' you're not wondering why I didn't shift and bite Bannerman's head off?' I asked.

'No. I think it just happened too quickly. And maybe subconsciously you knew it would be out of the bag if Bannerman saw you change for a second time. He certainly wouldn't be doubting any more, would he?'

'Oh'. This had not occurred to me. I realized I liked Owen. Trusted him, even. I thought for a moment about telling him about Patrick Wood. But Wood hadn't actually _done _anything, had he? I could hardly say the basis for my suspicions was that he smelled bad.

So I decided against it.

When we got to the hospital, Mike's mum was already there. She gave me a look that confirmed what I'd feared- she blamed me almost as much as Bannerman for what had happened to her son.

He wasn't lying down like I'd imagined- he was sitting up in the window seat. His arm was bandaged and in a sling and he looked bored.

'Hey Mike', I said.

'Took you long enough!' he said, grinning,' this is the dullest place in the world- seriously, never end up in one of these'.

'How you feeling?'

'Like shit'.

'Figures', I said, and my insides clenched nastily at the look Mike's mum shot me over the bed, but Mike laughed.

'Yep guess so. It could definitely be worse- good thing Bannerman's such a lousy aim'.

'Yeah'.

'It's really not serious, mate- I'll probably be out today- certainly tomorrow'.

'Cool'.

'Well yeah- there's nothing to do and the food's terrible'.

'Don't you have a TV?' I asked, looking at it pointedly.

'Can't get it to work. And all the nurses are busy'.

'What- healing people?'

'It's a disgrace, isn't it!'

'Pete Greenly says hi', I conveyed the message,' and get well soon'.

'Tell him thanks next time you see him'.

'Ah- well, he's out tonight and… I'm supposed to be leaving tommorow'.

'Oh right, yeah. The school'.

It was an awkward moment. I stared out of the window. It showed a view of the car park lined with drizzle, and the splotchy green of the allotments beyond. The cold sky outside was white, streaked with grey.

After a moment Mike blurted out,' you know I don't mind if you go'.

I couldn't meet his gaze. His mum was looking at me curiously. This was obviously the first she'd heard about me leaving. Mike continued quickly, 'I just wanna say I think you should. Even though… _this_ happened. I don't want you to delay leaving cause of what happened. Cause I don't mind either way'.

It was awkward. I looked back out of the window, at the cars circling the car park for a space.

'I'll visit- soon as I've settled in. See how you're getting on'.

'Thanks'.

I stared out of the window once more. I felt my mouth forming the shapes of the words in my head. It took me a while to form the simple sentence.

'I'll… I'll really miss you, you know'.

Mike nodded, and then he grinned and the awkwardness vanished, like that.

'Well- yeah! No need to go all gay about it!'

I laughed,' you wish!'

Just then a nurse came in and said my visiting time was up.

'I'll see you later Mike. Tell you all about boarding school! Euggh!' I paused at the door,' you don't think they'll be a _uniform_- do you?'

Mike's laugh followed me all the way down the hall as the nurse led me back to the waiting area, where Owen was drinking take-away coffee.

He stood up as we came in,' is he alright?'

'Yeah- he's fine', I said,' his mum looked a bit pissed at me, though'.

'Well', Owen drained his coffee and chucked it into a waste paper bin next to his seat,' that's to be expected, don't you think. Now let's get back to the home before your carers call the police on me'.

That was the last time I saw Mike. Because when I got back to the kid's home, Marie was in her office on the phone. Owen walked me as far as his car, then he got in.

'I'll see you tommorow', he said, leaning out of the widow as I let myself into the home,' 9 o clock. We'll be getting the train down to Cornwall. Make sure you're packed'.

'Yeah', I said,' seeya'.

As I set off up the stairs, Marie accosted me from her office, phone still in hand.

'Change of plan', she said,'I've just got off the phone with that Mrs Sartre. Tomorrow- instead of Mr Hind picking you up- it's going to be Patrick Wood'.


	8. Last Chapter

'What?' I stared at her. I was frozen on the stairs. My hand gripped the banister.

'It's going to be Mr Wood instead', she said, a little taken aback by how I was taking it,' picking you up tommorow'.

'Why?'

She shrugged,' Mr Hind has been called away on business'.

'I was just with him and he didn't say anything!'

'Well if he's been with you all day he may not know yet', she said, reasonably,' now are you packed? Do I have to check and make sure?'

'Oh, I'm packed. _Thanks_'.

I set off upstairs, opening the bedroom door with more force than necessary then slamming it shut.

No-no! This wasn't how this was meant to be. Why was Wood picking me up? Why? I paced the small room, glad that Greenly was away, would still be away when I left for here good. With Wood.

I wanted something to do. I foraged in my bag and extracted a cd. Beneath the cover was a fiver. I pocketed it. I couldn't shake off the bad feeling- the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong.

That night I did _not _get much sleep. This wasn't helped by the fact that the little boy ghost was back again. He was sitting on Pete Greenly's unmade bed with his feet on my bags, where I had left them the day before.

_Someone's going to die. Someone you love._

And I woke up in a panic at 6 o clock.

But it was ridiculous! Mike wasn't going to die. He was good! He'd be out by tomorrow- he'd said so! And anyway- if anyone was going to… well- it'd be me, wouldn't it. Wouldn't it?

The day before I had left the cd on the floor, along with my bags. I didn't like to look at them. They reminded me forcibly of the little boy ghost.

Suddenly, I slammed the cd back into my rucksack and zipped it up roughly. Why couldn't anything- ever- be easy? Wouldn't it be _easier _for little-boy ghost to just say "Mike is going to die". Hell- it was easier to say than "someone"! It only had half the syllables for Christ sake!

I swung the rucksack onto my bag and picked up the plastic bag. I left the room, slamming the door so hard the wall shook.

Marie was waiting at the bottom of the stairs,' I made you breakfast', she said,' in the dining room'.

It was beans on toast. I wolfed it, not having realized how hungry I was. I had finished eating before seven, before anyone else was up.

For the next two hours I sat in the living room with the TV playing a music channel at full volume, wrapped in a tight cling-film bubble of worry. As people filtered downstairs they stood at the door and glared at me, but I didn't turn it down. It was my last day so they could hardly order me to. I could get used to that sort of power! Finally, Marie came in and yelled over the noise,' he's here!'

I put the TV off and went out into the hall. Patrick Wood was waiting for me there, his hands in his pockets, that lazy grin drifting across his face.

'You ready?' asked Marie.

'Yeah'.

She pulled me into a brief hug.

'The kids got you a going-away card', she said, and slotted it into the carrier bag in my hand.

'Oh', I said. This was unexpected. She held me at arms length for a moment and said,' well- take care of yourself'.

'Yeah', I mumbled,' you too'.

It had never occurred to me that Marie probably _would _miss me. When I first came here, seven years ago, she had been just starting. We had lived and grown in this place together, and I had never realized. Never even bothered to think.

And then Patrick Wood was taking my carrier bag, motioning me through the front door. And I left. I left the kid's home forever. I did not look back at it as me and Wood walked away. Then we turned a corner and the familiar hated road was gone, and we were heading into town.

'I'm bringing you across town', he said,' to the station. We'll get a train to Cornwall'.

'Where's Owen?' I demanded,' why isn't he here?'

'He _is _here. He's meeting us at the station'.

'Then why couldn't he come here? I thought he had some _business _to attend to'.

'It was over quicker then we expected but his train isn't quite here yet. Another COLA. Telekinetic. You'll meet him at Tregarren'.

I saw the air go shimmery, like it had before in Marie's office, and glared at him.

'You can cut that hypnosis shit out, Wood!'

He looked affronted. His gaze hardened and the air returned to normal. I turned away from him and headed for the station, weaving through people as they did some lunch-time shopping in the cold sunlight. The feeling of dread was building inside me, Triple Eight-style. I hated turning my back on this man.

'It's not hypnosis you know, wolf-boy', he said softly in my ear. He had caught up with me,' just a bit of… glamour. Makes people like me. Makes them _loyal_. You see, with COLA's, what is essential is _control_. I just can't stand someone who isn't loyal'.

As I turned to stare at Wood, I saw a face beyond his shoulder, watching us. A little-boy. Insubstantial. Barely there. Through his head, I could see the woman sat behind him, drinking coffee.

And the spike of terror that jolted through me froze me to the ground and I saw Wood step back a little. Did he see how close I'd come to shifting? But I couldn't- I couldn't! Not here, not now.

Wood smile stretched, elastic once more.

It was now. Whatever shit was going to happen, it was happening _now_.

I turned again and shoved my way through the crowd with renewed vigour. There were too many sounds- too many scents. I couldn't differentiate what was what- who was who. I felt blind and panicked.

_Get to the train station, _I thought, _get to Owen._

But Owen was not here to pick me up. He'd seen me, heard me yelling at Wood and still he let him be his replacement. _I can smell a fake a mile away!_ I was about to be proved right and there was no-one to help me. I was just going to have to run. Leg it. Right out into the wild.

Into freedom.

And the little-boy was before me again, and the look of terror on his face was worse than in the dream.

'_RUN!' _he screamed, and I ran right through him.

I had shifted. People were screaming, madly, getting out of my way as I charged down the street, away from Wood and the scent of violence that powered up the road after me. Can you outrun a wolf, Wood? Can you outrun me?

I was running so fast, and half the people were running from me and half the people were chasing me and all of them were _getting in the way_, and I was sprinting away from the town centre, through the streets and the tarmac hurt my paws but it didn't matter, all that mattered was running, _escaping_, getting as far as possible from Patrick Wood…

But I could still smell him. I could smell the sweat on him as he sprinted after me, ahead of the crowd, more motivated. And I could smell the determination on him, and the smell of his determination was the smell of death in my nostrils.

And there was no-where to go. People behind me… and people in front; a solid wall of screaming flesh in my way. I powered right into it. I was a turbo-jet into clouds, a needle into a vein; the people parted before me, felt with terror the power of my paws pounding against the concrete. I ran, and his smell, the smell of his violence and his adrenalin faded.

I headed towards the A road. Tore down one grass verge and headed for the other but then- but then…

My forms tore themselves apart, and I was flying. The lorry screamed like a person and the cars behind it were braking and I was up on the grass verge above the sad, pummelled corpse of a wolf.

Alone.

But… but surely. Wasn't that wolf… me?

I looked down and I saw my own paws and they were insubstantial as the little-boy ghost, and I knew immediately what had happened, even as the driver jumped down from the cab and approached my broken body.

'Oh shit', he said, genuinely upset, I could tell. I had been a beautiful wolf,' hell- where did _that _come from? Oh god!'

And Patrick Wood was there, out of breath but smiling, and the bastard still had my carrier bag, all my stuff, and as he dumped it on the ground the good-bye card I would never read slid out. And then Wood was not-smiling, as the driver turned to him,' don't worry, mate', Wood said, clapping a hand over the driver's shoulders,' it wasn't your fault. The light was green'. He shrugged and looked down at my body,' must be something wrong with it or something'.

And I knew. Glamour. He had glamoured the lorry driver. Into seeing a greenlight. Into driving straight into me.

Because I didn't fall for it. Because I knew he was a fake, and had told him. Because I just wasn't _loyal_.

And my anger was silent and alone in the sunlight, as Wood crouched over my body, checking I was dead, and Owen came running up the verge, shock and sadness on his face, and I had to turn away.

And I saw them.

Two ghosts, at the edge of the forest, holding hands. More there than I'd ever seen him, the first was little-boy ghost. And the second… well, the second was me. Me as a boy, so insubstantial I seemed like a mist. But…but it wasn't me. Not any more.

_Someone you love will die._

It flitted across my mind as together, the two ghosts vanished, leaving me, a lone wolf, to watch the murderer and the teacher discuss what to do, what to do with my body, what to say. And I was almost happy. It had been me. The body and the life I had left behind. Me- dead, not Mike. Mike was safe. My Mike was safe.

By nightfall, my body was gone, taken away to a vet's. Owen was gone, back home, and I didn't know where home was. Wood was gone, back to Tregarren College.

I was gone, but not as far. I was down at the playpark. I was turning on the roundabout, using my huge shaggy paw to push it round. I seemed substantial enough to do this, and I was glad. I watched the stars revolve on my axis and felt sad.

I would never see Mike again. I was dead, and though I was still here, I knew he would never know. And even if he _did_… I shoved extra-hard again the ground and the stars, white pinpricks in the sky, smeared across the dark night-time blue. I was a wolf. I couldn't speak. And… it was hard to explain. It was like I _knew _him too well to… to _help_. Like it made a difference. Like I could help someone I didn't care about- could make them see me if I focussed _really _hard. If they kept an open mind. But not Mike.

And I was seething with the unfairness of it, but that wore out quite quickly. I was calmer when I was dead, I realized. And not bored. Boredom was not a thing here.

I wandered if I would see any other ghosts. Surely, from time to time. There had to be hundreds… thousands… _millions_. I had once read somewhere that for everyone alive today, there are three ghosts… for that is the ratio by which the dead outnumber the living… In one of Mike's books… 2001! That was it. The space odyssey. But that meant… surely this place should be crammed with ghosts. Shouldn't there be cave-people and people in Edwardian dress wandering past constantly? There wasn't… so there must be somewhere else you go, even when you're dead. Like a second chance.

Heaven.

And then it came to me that, maybe this wasn't the end, after all. And I was glad.

Maybe once ghosts finished their unfinished business, they could leave for good. Wherever that took them.

But I didn't _have _any unfinished business. There was nothing for me to do.

What is it? I asked the stars as they turned far above me- what is it?

And they dissolved, and I was standing in the small strip of floor between a bed and a wall, crammed into an unfamiliar bedroom and a kid my own age was sleeping on the bed. For a moment I was confused, then I caught a strand of scent, a calming scent of… fox. Yes- fox, friendlier than it ever would be in the wild. And slowly, I started to get it.

This kid was a shapeshifter, just like me. A fox. And if I'd lived… oh, we would have had some fun fights! I would've kicked his arse every time! Admittadly, probably only because I was bigger. My animal form had size and strength on its side, but then again…

As I imagined the way a fox would fight; ducking and weaving and seething, I stared down at him, and he seemed to stir a little bit. I thought of Patrick Wood. _My unfinished business_, I thought, _protect the second shapeshifter from Patrick Wood._

And as he stirred even more, his eyes opened slightly, and he saw me. I backed off slightly, and my claws snagged hesitantly on the thin carpet, and I willed him not to be scared of me.

We looked into each other's eyes. His were dark brown, mine were silver in the moonlight filtering through the tiny frosted window. And just as I felt the bedroom begin to dissolve, taking me slowly back to the creaking roundabout and the stars, the second shapeshifter looked up at me.

And smiled.


End file.
